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5.04.2012

Yesterday was the perfect kind of rain. The sky was split between sunshine and storm clouds, and while neighborhood children still played on bicycles and swing sets, those clouds broke open in a downpour and everyone got drenched and no one cared. They screamed with delight and I couldn't help but stand on my porch and get drenched with them and watch the rain and sun collide and make everything glisten. It was a happy, warm rain, the kind that you can dance in, the kind that feels like a relieved exhale. And I exhaled with it.

"What's in a year, you say? An eternity on one hand, and a single moment in another. That, and the worlds between."

"What the fine art market shows us, though, is that real value isn't created by this volatile fame. Consistently showing up on the radar of the right audience is more highly prized than reaching the masses, once then done. This works for every career, even if you've never touched a brush." - Volatility and Value. See also : A talisman for our times.

1 comments:

When I was in college I felt what I considered to be the perfect rain. This is a rain that is not too cold, not too warm— the drops are large enough to know that it's raining, but you are totally unaware that it is raining. I vowed to myself, that if I ever felt a perfect rain again that I would have to propose. Of course, I told just about everybody that I knew that I would be doing this. Perhaps in the back of my mind I was hoping that any girl I was going out with would just throw me in the shower and ask me to marry her… but that never happened.